Monday, June 17, 2013

The rising decibels of the outside world were no match for the war raging inside her. Slouched on a sofa in one corner of this club, she wondered... To be or not to be. To stay or to leave. To make friends with the blinding darkness or to move on in search of light. To save her remaining sanity and run for life or to hold fast and let the storm pass. Would the storm ever pass? Or would it take away everything in its wake? Her quest for answers only won more questions.

‘Did I get too close for comfort?’, her words seemed to fade away in the deafening noise surrounding them.

He nailed the coffin with a ‘Yes’.

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This post is in response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge - Week Eighty-Two.

The prompt is to write a 33-333 words piece using the third definition of the following word:

CLUB

1a : a heavy usually tapering staff especially of wood wielded as a weapon
b : a stick or bat used to hit a ball in any of various games
c : something resembling a club
2a : a playing card marked with a stylized figure of a black clover
b : plural but sing or plural in constr : the suit comprising cards marked with clubs
3a : an association of persons for some common object usually jointly supported and meeting periodically; also : a group identified by some common characteristic
b : the meeting place of a club
c : an association of persons participating in a plan by which they agree to make regular payments or purchases in order to secure some advantage
d : nightclub
e : an athletic association or team
4: club sandwich

Monday, June 10, 2013

They knew they were lost. A few stolen kisses, away from the group, didn't seem a bad idea initially. But how far the ripples of our decisions travel is a story for another day.

Endless groping in the darkness of the forest seemed to get them nowhere for hours. She stopped by intermittently to catch her breath and let-off a silent sob. He religiously kept marking trees along the path with a sharp stone even though he could not see those markings anyway. They discussed and debated, argued and fought, cried and patched-up with kisses but remained lost. No food, little water, dead phones and a few ounces of hope was all that they had.

Hand in hand, they moved ahead with cautious steps in the dark until he suddenly slipped. In one swift take, she got tugged along too and a rapid downward fall ended in a thud against a wall.

Bruised arms and grazed knees, they picked up the fearful bits of themselves. Brushing himself, he started walking along the wall, feeling its roughness with both his hands. She dutifully followed. It was pitch dark and his voice seemed to echo. In one flash of a moment, he realized they were inside a tunnel. Either end of it would fling them back into their 'lost world'. Their delight knew no bounds at this discovery.

Tears of happiness streaming down their faces, they started moving in rapid steps along the wall. It was then that he spotted light at the end of the tunnel. What he didn't know was that it was the headlight of an approaching train.

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This post is in response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge week eighty-one. The prompt is to use the following word in its third definition, in a 33-333 word piece.

LIGHT (noun)

1a : something that makes vision possible

b : the sensation aroused by stimulation of the visual receptors

c : electromagnetic radiation of any wavelength that travels in a vacuum with a speed of about 186,281 miles (300,000 kilometers) per second; specifically : such radiation that is visible to the human eye

Friday, June 7, 2013

“Honey, I’m sorry for all your suffering in my absence and I promise to be there by your side forever, now onwards” he sobbed profusely with his face buried in her hands.
“Her dementia is far too advanced and she doesn’t remember a thing from the past”, the doctor whispered into his ear.
Her eyes gleamed with an innocent sparkle as she smiled at him, the years of painful separation all forgotten; she had attained Nirvana after all.
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This post is in response to Trifecta Writing Challenge – Week Seventy-One. The prompt is to write complete a story in 3 sentences.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

"The effect you gave it stole the beauty of the original picture somehow", her words faded in the silence surrounding them that night.

"I like it this way. All black and white".

"I love colors better... All the mesmerizing shades you manage to capture so beautifully in all your pictures".

"So how long have you been seeing him?", words popped out abruptly as though the brain-to-tongue pathway had suddenly misfired.

"Who, Jack? Ohh, I kinda fell for him at first sight in college", she blushed, lost in pleasant thoughts.

The rosy redness warming her soft cheeks, the twinkle of her deep-blue eyes, her fragrant, gorgeous golden locks streaked with copper highlights... So much color in her life, he thought.

As he slowly walked her down the dark alley, he quietly drew a knife out of his pocket and kept it hidden from her view.

"Do you love me?"

"Come on Timmy. You know I've always loved Jack", she couldn't hold back her annoyance.

In one swift take, he plunged the knife into his own belly, collapsing onto the ground in one pile.

"You freak", she shrieked, her eyes bloodshot, as her hands tore the knife out of him; a gaping wound, now soaked in blood was staring in her face.

"I love you Rosy. But without you, there's no color in life anyway."

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This post is response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge - Week Eighty. The prompt is to write a 33-333 words piece using the word 'freak' in it's third definition.

FREAK (noun)

1
a : a sudden and odd or seemingly pointless idea or turn of the mind
b : a seemingly capricious action or event
2
archaic : a whimsical quality or disposition
3
: one that is markedly unusual or abnormal: as
a : a person or animal having a physical oddity and appearing in a circus sideshow
b slang (1) : a sexual deviate (2) : a person who uses an illicit drug
c : hippie
d : an atypical postage stamp usually caused by a unique defect in paper (as a crease) or a unique event in the manufacturing process (as a speck of dirt on the plate) that does not produce a constant or systematic effect.

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About Me

Someone who loves to dream... to write... allowing the ink of thoughts to flow onto paper creating something new. I love to bask in the joy of creating, admiring the marvels of nature in all things - big and small. Deriving satisfaction from healing people and making a positive difference to lives...